


Holiday Fever

by LikeASwitchInHeat



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Arguing, Background Character Death, Enemies to Lovers, Language, M/M, Pandemics, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 04:06:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17134637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LikeASwitchInHeat/pseuds/LikeASwitchInHeat
Summary: Rhett and Link are rival epidemiologists, trying to save the world before Christmas.





	Holiday Fever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rhinkipoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhinkipoo/gifts).



They were calling it Holiday Fever. The pandemic that had been sweeping the globe since Thanksgiving. It had a short incubation period, and was highly communicable. By the time you started to even sweat, it was too late for you. And often for any loved ones in recent contact as well. Entire communities had been decimated. Leaving behind bodies with openly bleeding sores. Flesh eating at itself even after death, until the bodies could be burned. Suffice it to say, nasty stuff. 

Rhett hadn’t left the lab since the outbreak started. He worked for a small government subsidized laboratory. They were given the bare minimum in terms of equipment, resources, and staffing. Not to mention compensation (i.e., salary). But everyone that worked there shared one thing that money couldn’t buy: passion. 

And passion is what kept Rhett and his team of epidemiologists working tirelessly through the weeks. And they looked it, Rhett thought, glancing over at his colleague. Her hair was greasy, and her eyes were bloodshot. He was sure he looked no better. But who had time to sleep when the world was literally dying all around them? In a sense, this was the moment they’d all been training for, though they’d hoped it would never come. 

“Have you eaten lately, Stevie?” Dr Levine looked at him like he’d spoken a foreign language. “And when’s the last time you caught some sleep?” 

“Kinda hard to keep track of that stuff,” she said, “when we’re trying to catch this thing.” She gesticulated wildly to their piles of data, and simulations. And seemingly hopeless efforts to get ahead of this disease. 

The news flickered on their small, rickety television that was on 24/7 in the corner of the lab, hoping to get some good news. Or any news at all. 

Instead, Rhett got a feeling of bile rising up in the back of his throat as an all too familiar face flashed across the screen. 

“Ughhhhh....” Dr Levine openly groaned as they raced to mute the tv. The last thing either of them wanted to hear was Dr _Fink Neal_ assuring the world, for the thousandth time, that he was going to save them all. _He’ll probably charge them all for the pleasure, too,_ Rhett thought to himself. 

Rhett had despised Link Neal for as long as he could remember. 

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He’d had a huge crush on him during their undergrad years. What was not to like? He was the smartest guy Rhett had ever met. Dreamy eyes. Flawless hair. A smile that could melt your pants off. And speaking of pants, don’t get started on his ass in those tight pants he wore. 

And all of that just made Rhett angrier upon learning what a shit he was. He breezed through school. Full ride on academic scholarships. Meanwhile Rhett worked multiple part time jobs to keep himself afloat. He still had some side-hustles these days, and he was a 41-freakin’-year old man. 

After their undergrad, and graduate studies, both having earned their PhDs, they had taken vastly different paths. Neal has sold his smarts to the highest bidder. Rhett wanted make the world a better place. Neal only cared about his bank account. And was completely fucking shameless about it. 

He would find a treatment, and sell it. Even if it meant that those in need couldn’t afford it. Rhett couldn’t for the life of him understand what good that did anyone. But as far as he could tell, Link didn’t give a damn about anyone aside from himself. 

Rhett and Dr Neal were often held up in opposition to each other. Good and evil. The big corporate bastard against the disheveled fighter-for-the-little-guy. They were both good at what they did. But Neal had more resources. Rhett was always having to make due. So while Rhett might be the public’s darling. Their Robin Hood. Neal gave them results. It made Rhett nauseous, but he couldn’t argue with it. 

Rhett was still sneering in his reveries when the door to the lab was opened unceremoniously, and two uniformed men entered. Men with guns.

“Dr McLaughlin?” they demanded to know, staring evenly between Rhett and Stevie. 

Rhett looked wide-eyed at Stevie, raising his eyebrows in genuine confusion before trepidatiously raising his hand. 

“You’ve been ordered by the President to go into quarantine, along with some other... experts... until the Holiday Fever crisis is over.”

Dr Levine’s jaw dropped in an open-mouthed scoff as they took Rhett away. They didn’t use handcuffs, but they may as well have. 

“It’s all right, Stevie,” Rhett reassured her. “I’ll... I’ll call you when I can.”

—————

“STEVIE!” Rhett shouted into the receiver. 

“Rhett, are you... are you all right?”

“These _experts_ they’re isolating me with? It’s just one person. And guess fucking who?!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she sighed. 

“Link the Fink fucking Neal. How am I supposed to work with the guy? He has no respect for human life.”

“Well, they’re not gonna let him monetize it. This is too big. They are holding you guys captive until you find some kind of cure, right? If he wants his freedom, he’ll play ball.”

“I just. I can’t stand the guy. I can barely think straight.” 

“Yeah, well, I hear he’s not much of a straight thinker himself.”

He could practically hear the smirk in her voice.

“Fuck you, Stevie.”

“I’m just saying,” she said, adapting a sing-song tone. “You’ve got more than brilliant minds in common. Maybe you can put those heads together, and ooooohhhhh, I don’t know... save the world?!”

Rhett hung up. Stevie didn’t deserve that. But he was too stressed out to care. 

He re-entered the conference room. Which was more like a cell. There were bunk beds, and even a toilet. But the main attraction was the conference table. That is where they’d been sitting for hours. More or less in silence. 

“I’m surprised you’re even here,” Rhett sneered across the table. “Wasn’t there anyone you could pay off?”

“You know,” Dr Neal said with uncharacteristic matter of fact-ness, “I actually don’t have to be here. I came willingly.” He raised his hands up like a man surrendering.

“Okay, well, why the desire to play nice all of a sudden? You’ve never cooperated or collaborated with anyone. Why now? The doomsday scenario? Think you’re gonna get famous off of this and somehow convert that to revenue?” 

“You’re right about me, Rhett. I’m greedy, and selfish. So, sue me. But when you do, just remember I’ve got a fuck ton of money, so you’ll likely lose.”

Rhett didn’t know what to say to that. So he sat in silence. Trying not to look at Neal. Or acknowledge the fact that Neal looked just as exhausted and miserable as he felt. 

“My mother.” 

“What?” Rhett asked. 

“My mother. That’s the selfish motive behind my willingness to cooperate.”

“She..?”

“She died. Yes. Holiday Fever.”

“The only humanizing thing anyone knows about you is that your mother lives with you.”

“And?” 

Neal’s stare was ice cold. There was no love lost between either of them, Rhett realized. 

“Well, how do you know that you’re not... infected?” Rhett’s blood started to race at the very thought of being in the same room as one of the infected. He’d seen too many images of the sick, and the dead. 

Neal didn’t answer right away. He looked guilty. Like a little boy who’d been caught kicking a puppy. 

“You didn’t have to worry, did you?” Rhett said incredulously. “You knew. You... you fucking knew! You have some sort of... point-of-care test? Some sort of early detection system? And you’re keeping that from the public?” Rhett was hyperventilating now. And he burst into motion, launching himself across the table at Neal. Wrapping his hand around the man’s throat. “You fucking monster!”

Neal clasped his hands around Rhett’s larger hand on his neck. But he didn’t fight back. Not much.

Rhett wanted to hurt him. Wanted to hit him. Wanted to pound his face into a pulp for all the disservices he had done to society. But there was something in his eyes. Something that made Rhett want to have mercy on him, against his better judgement. 

Just as Neal was running out of breath, and his strength was leaving him. Just as those gorgeous eyes were rolling back into his head, Rhett loosened his grip. 

Neal gasped for air. His chest was heaving. There would be marks on his neck later. 

“Well, one thing’s for sure. They don’t give a fuck about either one of us. They were content to let me strangle you to death without so much as sending a guard in.”

Neal rubbed the sore skin where Rhett had gripped him. “I was poor growing up.” Neal informed him, voice sounding raw, and pained. 

“You and me both, brother. Cry me a fucking river.”

“We lived in a trailer. And kids picked on me. My momma...” He teared up at the mention of her. It was too soon, Rhett understood that. “And we didn’t take vacations, or have nice Christmases, or birthdays. She was such a saint, I never even knew. Until I was older. And then I understood what people said behind our backs. I understood what she had to do to even keep us that much afloat.” Neal took a steadying breath. “I promised myself I wouldn’t wind up like that. I was never going to be that desperate, and dependent on... assistance, if you can call it that. And no one would be pitying me, or mocking me. So yeah. I got the nice house, and nice car. I got it all, baby; and guess what - I fucking earned it.”

Neal was still disgusting, Rhett told himself. But he did feel sorry for him. Rhett had grown up rural poor, too. And he could easily see himself going the same way Neal had gone. But Rhett had made himself a different promise. That he would be the protector of those like young-Rhett and young-Link. Those who didn’t have an advocate. Neal’s mom had been his rock, the only one he’d had growing up. And now she was gone. And succumb to a sickness that the world was convinced that the great Dr Neal should be saving them from. That had to sting like a motherfucker. But sympathy only got him so far. He couldn’t forget all the cases Neal could have contributed to; all the vaccines and treatments he could have provided. All the times Dr Neal failed the world, just because the world had been cruel to him when he was a little boy. 

Rhett couldn’t stand it. The sickness that seemed to dwell within Neal’s head. The sympathy Rhett felt for him within his own head. The cognitive dissonance was too much. Rhett did not have control of himself, and at this point he just couldn’t care anymore. 

Rhett hauled off and smacked Neal across the face. 

Neal yelped. But then he laughed. The sick fuck was laughing! He rubbed his face where Rhett had struck him, and sucked his teeth. Rhett could see red saliva coating his teeth, and a thin line of bloody spit leaking from the corner of his mouth. Rhett didn’t think he’d hit him that hard. He must have cut himself on one of those jank pointy teeth of his. Those adorably sharp little kitten teeth. The ones Rhett had fantasized about during college. Sinking into Rhett’s neck as Neal fucked him senseless...

_Get your head on straight, McLaughlin,_ he told himself. 

And then as if he’d stolen the thought right from Rhett’s head, Neal had the audacity to command him, “Kiss me.”

“Fuck you, Neal.”

“Would be my pleasure, Dr McLaughlin. I bet you’re really good in the sack. A real giver. All selfless... and hardworking. I’d fucking love it.”

Rhett hated everything about this man. How Neal mocked him, even as Rhett was struggling to sympathize with him. But he was also acutely aware of the situation firming up in his pants. He wanted this. There was no physiological doubt about that. 

“I wouldn’t...”

“Wouldn’t what? Wouldn’t fuck me if I was the last guy on earth? Well, I mean, if ever there was a time to test that theory...”

“How can you joke about that?”

“What difference does it make?” 

They were both speaking in rough whispers by this point. Faces inches apart. Rhett still holding him down with the sheer size of him. 

Neal lifted his head up and pressed his lips against Rhett’s. Rhett moaned against them, against his better judgment. He moaned into those soft, plump lips. 

“Do you want me, Rhett?” Link husked against Rhett’s lips.

“I want... I want to solve this case.”

“Unrelated issue.”

“Will you help? And. And not for fucking money!”

“Oh, I’ll work with you, baby.”

Rhett pushed against Link’s chest. “Not. Not like this. Not now.”

“Why not?” Link insisted. “What better time than now, at the end of the world. There’s literally nothing to lose. And everything to gain by us getting closer.”

“You really think we are alone in here? That we’re not on camera or nothin’?”

Link smirked wickedly. “Is it a problem if we are? No... exhibitionistic streak in you, McLaughlin? Besides, don’t worry, baby. No one tried to stop you when you were choking the daylights outta me. I don’t think they’re gonna come running now.... You can still choke me, though. If you wanna.”

The sonuva bitch winked at him. What a cocky bastard. 

“You’ll help me fix this? Help me figure it out. No monetary gain? Even after? Even after we’re freed?”

“I’ll work with you. I’ve... had a change in perspective. In priorities. I’ll leave my privately funded lab and help you. I can give you my resources, and...”

“I don’t want your dirty money.”

“Well, what’s the point in denying yourself that?! We can help people with it. Don’t be stubborn...”

Rhett could tell that the look on his face said enough. He didn’t have to argue. 

“Okay, okay,” Link acquiesced. “I’ll... I’ll donate it. All of it. We’ll... start from scratch. And do it your way.”

“Are you just sayin’ that to get in my pants, Dr Neal?”

“Absolutely,” he smiled. “But that don’t mean that I don’t intend to keep my word...”

Link reached up and bit into Rhett’s neck, eliciting a deep groan of need from Rhett. He immediately reached down to free Link’s dick from his pants, and then scramble to shimmy his down as well.

“Fuck me, Neal. Do it before I think better of it.”

They flipped positions, so that Link was on top of Rhett, and Rhett could feel Link fumbling to line himself up before pressing into Rhett. 

It was a fucking lot, and that’s all there was to it. The stress of the past month. The sleeplessness, the losses, the lack of self-care. They were both pouring all of that into _this_. 

Link thrust into Rhett roughly a couple times before dipping his stubbled face down to scrape against Rhett’s unkempt greasy beard. 

“I wanna be like you, Rhett.”

Rhett was tempted to think that Link was teasing him again. But there were tears in Link’s eyes. 

“I wanna do good with you, Rhett.” His voice was dripping with a need that had to do with more than just sex. It hitched up an octave, “Will you show me how?”

Rhett couldn’t stay mad anymore. He wanted him. And not just his body. His brain. His skill. He wanted to work with him. Save the world. Change the world beyond this Holiday Fever. He wanted all of him. 

“I will,” Rhett heard himself whine, as Link sank himself deeper into him, causing his eyes to roll back, as he gripped Link’s back with fingernails that were a good couple weeks past due for grooming. “Just. Don’t stop. I need this. Need you. So much. Please!”

————

If any guard bore witness to what transpired in the conference room that day, the history books did not recollect it. 

The only facts that would be passed down were that Dr McLaughlin and Dr Neal had won Nobel prizes for what came to be known as the Christmas Miracle cure. 

And afterward, Link kept his word, donating all his wealth to St. Jude; and dedicating himself to Rhett’s research, and to Rhett himself. 

If Dr Levine ever stopped looking smug about it, the world would never know.


End file.
